Subject: One Hundred Miles and Three Friends (a long story)
From: Bob Metzger
Date: Mon, 03 Jun 2002 22:21:33 -0500
This afternoon, as I drifted in and out of consciousness on the massage
table while Igor (yes, really, he's Russian) tried to work the soreness
out of my tired old body, I thought a lot about how truly blessed I am.
Yesterday morning at 10:28 am - 28 hours, 28 minutes, and some number of
seconds after I had started - I had crossed the finish line of the
Kettle Moraine 100 mile trail run. My training partner and best buddy,
Jeff Wold, who planted the "ultra" seed in my mind back in 1995, was at
my side, just as he had been since mile 62. My devoted crew, Anna Belu
and Kathy Casale, were there waiting and cheering, just as they had been
at every "crew accessible" aid station. Anna was taking pictures and
writing down the numbers. Kathy had a tear in her eye - yeah, I saw
that, Kathy. Race Director Tim Yanacheck came out with a big smile,
shook my hand, and handed me my finisher's award, the coolest little
copper kettle. Another friend and occasional training partner, Scott
Wagner smiled at me from the chair into which he had collapsed three
minutes ealier. And yet another good buddy and training partner, Larry
Pederson, who had paced Scott for those last 38 miles, beamed at me,
grinning from ear to ear. Yeah, blessed.
Anna, Kathy and I had left the Twin Cities around 10 am on Friday.
During the six hours or so that it took to reach LaGrange, Wisconsin, we
talked, listened to tunes, ate a hearty lunch, took turns driving, and
had a lot of fun. By about 5:30, we had checked into the motel, the
"girls" had changed into running clothes, and I was sitting at a picnic
table at packet pickup, comparing braids with local speedster and 100K
entrant Christine Crawford. Christine's braid was judged (by Christine)
to be a tad longer than mine, but mine was hands down grayer. The
evening was rather warm, and the two of us confided to each other that
we are NOT very good hot weather runners. We chatted more as other
familiar faces came and went, and I realized that I felt very relaxed
and ready for my first attempt at a 100 mile trail run. The heat
concerned me a bit, but I felt confident that I was very well trained
for every other aspect of the event.
I slept rather fitfully, evidently more apprehensive about things than I
had realized. I woke a number of times, but the upside of that was that
I knew I was well hydrated. The downside was that I probably only slept
for about 4 or 5 hours, total. When the alarm went off at 4:25, I got up
immediately to get dressed and get my breakfast down. I tried to be as
quiet as possible, and let my crew get as much sleep as possible. As
soon as I was dressed, I stepped outside to check the temperature, and
also to check for Jeff, who had planned to arrive around 5 am, and
tumble into one of the beds we would be abandoning and get a good day's
sleep before assuming pacing duties at the 100K mark. Jeff was there, as
expected. Within a few minutes, my crew and I were headed for the start,
and Jeff was asleep in the room.
The temperature at the bank in Whitewater was 56 as we passed by around
5:15. The sky was cloudless, and it was apparent that the day would heat
up quickly. My stomach was feeling queasy already, probably a
combination of too little sleep, too much breakfast, and nerves. I
figured the feeling would pass once the RD set us in motion. At 6:00
sharp, 83 hundred milers, 29 hundred Kers, and a couple of 100 mile
relay runners headed off into the woods.
I ran conservatively, drawing on my experience of 30 or so previous
ultras, including four 24-hour races. As expected, the temperature rose
quickly, and I drank steadily from my CamelBak. But unexpectedly, my
stomach continued to feel somewhat upset. The smiling faces of Kathy and
Anna at mile 7.5 gave me a huge lift, and the concern on Anna's face
after I spent about 5 minutes in the porta-potty at that aid staion
touched me. These two friends had each taken a vacation day, and devoted
an entire weekend to support me in my quest for 100 miles, and another
had driven through the night in order to be there to kick my butt when
it would most need that treatment. There was no way I could let these
people down. I ate some of the crystallized ginger that I had brought
along for battling stomach upset, and headed out on the long stretch to
the 31-mile turnaround.
The first 16 miles is well-shaded, and the ginger seemed to be doing its
job. This part of the course is quite runnable, and I had to force
myself to take walking breaks. The ginger had calmed my stomach pretty
well, and I was running strong and on pace to easily finish under the
30-hour limit. Shortly after mile 16, however, there are some long
stretches of unshaded meadows. The trails are very runnable, but very
exposed to the sun. Knowing my usual vulnerability to heat, I became
even more diligent about forcing myself to walk periodically, and made
an extra effort to keep my water as cold as possible. At the next aid
station, I filled my hat with ice, as Kathy and Anna swabbed my down
with sponges drenched in cold water, and then slathered me with
sunblock. Meanwhile, an aid station volunteer honored my request to put
as much ice as he had to spare into my 70-ounce Omega bladder, and top
it up with water. I hugged my crew, thanked the volunteers, and was off
again into the oven that these meadows had become. I was staying
hydrated, taking a Succeed! electrolyte capsule every hour, consuming
Balance Bars and aid station fare, and keeping the stomach discomfort in
the tolerable range. But about 30 minutes out of that aid station, I
sucked on my bite valve, and nothing happened. I reached around back,
and I realized that my pack is so well insulated that the ice had not
melted. I had about 50 ounces of ice, melting at a pace slower than I
needed it. Uh oh. Just suck it up and trust that all will work out in
the end.
But remember, I am blessed. Before I got into any serious trouble, I was
able to add some water to the bladder. The downside was that about 10
minutes later, I realized that while I was adding the water, I had
dropped my bandana, which I use constantly during long events, for many
different purposes. Again, I refused to let myself get too distracted by
this little bump in the road, and at the next aid station, another
runner's crew had my bandana for me. Wow. My own crew, my two "babes,"
as the usual suspects (you know who you are, Pat, Brad, et al) were
calling them, continued with their wonderful support, greeting me with
smiles, hugs, food, drink, sponges, and inspiring words.
I ran for many hours through this stretch with Phil Oelkers from
Illinois, and we talked a lot and took turns pulling each other along.
As we returned from the 31 mile turnaround, where we had made the first
enforced cutoff by about an hour, we discussed our pace, and the dreaded
open meadows that lay between us and the next enforced cutoff at mile
62, back at the start/finish area. Around mile 50, I think, after some
clouds had mercifully helped us through those meadows, my stomach
finally started to feel good, and I picked up the pace a bit. Anna and
Kathy had my lights ready for me just when I needed them, and Anna, a
scientist by vocation, let me know that I had even managed a pace that
put me further ahead of the upcoming 62 mile cutoff. When I did get
there, Jeff was all ready to begin his role as pacer, and guide me
through those last 38 miles. I was 1:25 ahead of the cutoff - it was
10:30 pm.
Jeff and I have run probably a few thousand miles together since I moved
to MN in 1995. Perhaps the only person with whom I have run more miles
is my wife, Chris Markham. Chris teaches 9th grade science, and had
stayed at home to wrap up end of school stuff, and to cheer for our
younger son, Ari, who was competing in the 1600 meter race at Section
Championships on Saturday. As Jeff and I headed out into the darkness,
he told me that he had just spoken to Chris, and that Ari had run a
4:36, good for a 4th place medal in his event. Yeah, man, that was some
great news, and got me ever more stoked. We cruised along, just as we
have so many times before, sharing our love of running and the outdoors.
We talked a little, but said so much more. Every once in awhile, we
turned off our headlamps and enjoyed the silence and the dark of night.
We listened wordlessly to the coyotes and frogs, and the other sounds of
the night. Every so often, Jeff would tell me how strong I was running,
and where we stood in relation to the cutoffs. And at every aid station,
Kathy and Anna were there to make sure we were eating and drinking well,
that we were staying warm, and to tell us how awesome we looked. It was
very dark out there.
There was a lovely half to 3/4 moon that broke free of a cloud about
1:00 am. The temperature was now about 60, and I was finally very
comfortable in my singlet. Virtually all the volunteers and crews, and
many other runners, were now clad in jackets. But Jeff and I were moving
very well, and were generating plenty of heat to keep ourselves warm. We
were almost two full hours ahead of the cutoffs when we hit the four
mile stretch to the 81-mile turnaround, and after stumbling over roots
and rocks, decided that it was a good time to do a lot of walking. We
power walked most of the way out and back, and still were 1:30 ahead of
the final aid station cutoff "back" at mile 85. Our headlamps had been
extinguished at 4:59 am, as we witnessed a lovely sunrise from some more
of the open meadows that decorate the trail.
We had fifteen miles to go, and six and a quarter hours to get there.
And we were still taking frequent running breaks from our awesome
walking. All we had to do now was stay strong, and avoid doing anything
stupid. Our excitement rose, as did Anna's and Kathy's. Their smiles got
bigger at each aid station, and even in the daylight, they continued to
tell us how good we looked. The volunteers at the last aid station, 5
miles from the finish, had promised pancakes upon our return when we had
last seen them at mile 67. And they had then ready for us now! It was
doubtless the longest aid station stop of the run for me, but I gobbled
down a couple of pancakes with syrup, while Jeff more daringly devoured
some breakfast sausage. We headed out of there well-fueled, and with
plenty of time to walk it in if we had to.
My stomach problems had never completely gone away, however, so putting
so much food in there all at once had a pretty quick effect on me. For
the fourth time of the event, I had found a nice quiet spot to squat in
the woods. Squatting after 95 miles has all sorts of interesting effects
of the body. But I survived, and returned quickly to Jeff's side,
shaking the cramps out of my quads as we powered up and down the hilly
cross-country ski trails that would take us home. The sun was up now,
and the temperature had risen a bit, but it was still quite comfortable.
But I was finally starting to feel weary, and we were doing almost 100%
walking. We were still about an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half
ahead of the cutoff pace, so it was just a matter of maintaining forward
motion for another hour and a quarter or so. It was about this time that
we encountered an elderly couple walking together on the trail. They
asked if we were participating in the 100 mile race, and when Jeff
replied that I was, and that he was pacing me, the woman asked me, "What
do you do with your mind when you're running a hundred miles?" Without
hesitation, I replied, "Ignore it." About 10 seconds later, Jeff turned
to me, laughing like crazy, and said that he might have a new favorite
ultra quotation.
We finished strong, running the last mile or so, but still managing to
get passed by a resurrected Scott, who had nearly dropped at mile 62,
and had looked like a "Night of the Living Dead" cast member at mile 81.
Another runner also passed us, but I couldn't have cared less. As we
came into sight of the finish, people were hollering, Anna was snapping
photos, Kathy was brushing away a tear, and I was pumping my fist. I had
completed my first attempt at 100 miles on trails, and I was proud and
grateful. Upon learning a few minutes ago that I was one of only 38 of
the 83 starters to complete the 100 miles, I felt even more blessed.
I can't say enough thanks to Jeff, Anna, and Kathy for their support out
there. I don't want to even think about what it would have been like
without them out there, inspiring me and taking such good care of me.
Thanks to Tim Yanacheck, Jason Dorgan, and their volunteers for putting
on an awesome race. Thanks to all my training buddies for their patience
and support along the way. Thanks to Christine Crawford for the cute
little flower hair thingie that she gave me for luck as we gathered for
the start - I wore it all day, and it is permanently attached now to my
race bib. And finally, thanks to my wife and son for inspiring me to run
as strong as they both do, and for sending me off with love and
confidence.
On the website (http://www.kettle100.com/), my name is listed as a "100
mile solo" entrant. Not the way I see it.
****************************************
** Bob Metzger
** Lakeville, MN
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